Blood Enemies
by The Yankee Countess
Summary: Two ancient races of supernatural creatures that have been warring each other for centuries. But despite the fact that they are sworn "blood enemies", the Lady and the Chauffeur are determined to make their own rules. 2-part one-shot written for Halloween.
1. Part One: Fangs

_Here's something I wrote just for Halloween, that was inspired by a post I made on tumblr that basically took the premise from the movie "Underworld" (a werewolf and vampire falling in love), and brought to Downton Abbey. This story is very much credited to **shana-rosee**, who also provided the prompts for parts 1 & 2. It was at her "persistance" ;o) that it became more than just a "story idea", so if you like it, be sure to send some thanks to her (and read one of her amazing stories too!)_

_Now this *could* become a bigger, multi-chapter fic, but right now, it's a 2-part one-shot. But we'll see! It is *very* M-rated, and contains descriptions of blood, as well as somewhat "rough" sex and dialogue, so please keep that in mind if you find those things upsetting. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this little Halloween tale, and Happy Halloween S/T fandom!_

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><p><strong><span>Blood Enemies<br>_by The Yankee Countess _**

(part one)

_**"Fangs"**_

It wasn't supposed to be like this…

They were enemies. Their kind had been enemies for…centuries, perhaps even millennia. Her kind were monsters, terrible blood-sucking demons that took pleasure in death and destruction…

And yet there was nothing "demonic" about her. Holding her as he did now, feeling her body move against his, her mouth hungrily responding to his own, urgent kiss…

How could he think of her like that? And perhaps more importantly…how could he bring himself to the task of doing what he had been sent to Downton to do?

"_We're relying on you, Tom; we're all relying on you…"_ his brother had said to him, well over a year ago, when the Pack selected him to be their assassin. He understood this task to be important, and saw it as a great honor. After all, his sister had been seduced one of those blood suckers; seduced, before being enslaved and tortured for the "pleasure" of those demons, before madness drove her to leaping off a cliff, finally finding the freedom she had been denied, in death. He was only a lad when it happened, but the painful memories remained with him, from childhood to adulthood, and he could never erase the mournful howl his mother cried when news reached them about his sister's fate.

He hated them—all of them. And he wanted justice for his sister. So when the task was offered to him, he didn't waste any time in bowing his head in willing acceptance. He would take the year to study everything he could about his enemy, study and train and prepare himself for his new life at Downton Abbey, where he would serve the Crawleys, one of the oldest vampiric families in all of Britain. He would bide his time…and then when the moment was right…he would strike.

The assignment was simple: kill them all. Use whatever means necessary to do this…

But _this_ had not been part of the plan.

"Tom…" she gasped, moaning against his mouth as their kiss intensified. She had only recently started to call him by his first name, and Lord help him, he loved hearing her say it, especially in that passionate way she had just spoken. He could hear the desire, the pleasure, and the plea in her voice. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her. "Tom…please…" she whimpered, her hips lifting off the mattress to grind against his erection which was growing harder by the second.

He lifted his head from her throat which he had been nuzzling, gasping slightly at the sight that greeted him.

This was not their first night together. In truth, he had lost count of the number of trysts they had been conducting for the past few weeks, but even so, he was still not used to seeing her eyes glow red as her desire kindled.

She must have realized what had startled him, because she turned her face away, her lashes brushing her cheeks in a demure (and perhaps embarrassed) manner. "Sorry," she mumbled, and for a moment he wondered if she could, would she be blushing now?

He shook his head, and brought a hand to her cheek, encouraging her to turn back and face him. "Please don't be," he murmured, his fingers stroking her soft, alabaster cheek, marveling still at how warm her skin felt. When he had first held her in his arms, he had remarked on this, voicing his surprise that she wasn't…cold…like he thought she would be.

"_Well, we absorb the heat of our…"_ she paused then and he knew what she was about to say: _"prey"._ A bitter reminder to what she was…and why he had been sent there. But he pushed that thought aside, both then and now, and kissed her back once more, his tongue exploring the sweet depths of her mouth, while his body continued to move and grind against hers.

Sybil shivered against him, but he knew it wasn't because of the autumn cold. _"It's impossible to feel the cold with you," _she had giggled that first night, when he had felt her shiver and asked her if that was why. _"With you, I don't know if I would even need a blanket."_ It was true; his body temperature was much higher than that of a human. No, her shiver, both then and now, was due to the same reason that was causing her eyes to glow red.

She wanted him.

"Tom…" he heard her moan as his mouth descended down her body, pushing her nightdress aside and running his tongue across her nipples. She gasped and arched her body off the bed, especially when he took a sweet bud between his teeth and gently tugged. "Tom…Tom please…"

"Please?" he echoed, his lips releasing her nipple and moving to the other one. "Please what, love?"

There were so many things he wanted to do, things they had done before where the mere thought kept him in a constant state of arousal. His mouth watered as he recalled the first time he had gone down—

"Umph!" Tom sputtered slightly as he looked up into his lover's glowing eyes, whose supernatural strength had pushed him back, before quickly straddling his thigh. A hiss escaped his lips as with a speed rivaled by no other creature, her hand reached into his trousers (which he still foolishly wore) and began to stroke his cock, making him even harder if that was possible. "Ffffffffffffffffuck…" he gasped, as he lay beneath her, completely at her mercy (and truly, not minding in the slightest).

She liked being in control, and she loved being on top. It was not a familiar position for him (despite all their talk about being 'forward' and 'progressive', werewolves could be extremely old fashioned when it came to matters of sex and who went where), but it didn't take long for him to quickly love it as well. Just…looking up at her…and seeing the pleasure on her face as she rode him, throwing her head back and gasping and moaning before crying out her release, her beautiful body perfectly arched and bare, the moonlight making her alabaster skin look like porcelain, and her breasts, round and bouncing and begging for his caress…

He reached up now to touch her, wanting to feel her fill his hands again, but it was difficult to concentrate on anything other than the ministrations her cool fingers were performing on his cock. Despite the warmth she had absorbed from being with him, her fingers still had a trace of that coolness, which in truth just seemed to make his blood run hotter.

"Now," he growled, feeling his release building to a pressure point. "Please—ahhh, Sybil, please!"

She smiled; like all vampires, she seemed to enjoy hearing her "prey" beg. But again, despite her family, despite her…kind…she wasn't like the monsters in the stories the Pack fed to him and other young wolves. She was far more angel than demon, something he had witnessed countless times since his arrival, from the sincere friendships she held with "outsiders" (her housemaid, for one, was a shifter, who were seen with just a little more regard than werewolves…barely), to her passionate arguments for equal rights between vampires and other creatures, both supernatural and human. She even argued against their bloody consumption!

"_We devour too much!"_ she had argued with her grandmother. _"There's no need for it! Especially when a simple pint of blood will sustain us for a week! And if we're careful, we _don't_ even have to kill our prey!"_

Her grandmother had muttered something about _"nothing succeeds like excess",_ and Tom had to bite his tongue to keep himself from joining in Sybil's argument. That wouldn't do, of course. He was a spy, masquerading as a servant. That was a secret that not even Sybil was aware…

Tom swore as he felt the velvet softness of her tongue run over his length. He remembered the first time she had done that (surprising him completely, even to the point of startling him because all he could think about was that her sharp fangs were mere millimeters from his most vulnerable flesh) but any unease he had felt quickly dissipated into pleasured gasps, just as he was doing now as she tasted his cock.

He wasn't going to last. He was so close when she had been stroking him earlier with her hand, that a few more sweeps of her tongue and he knew he would be—

But it wasn't her tongue that finished him. Because the next thing he knew, she had speedily moved up and sank her body down, taking him deep inside her. The feel of her velvet-like core surrounding him was too much, and he threw his head back and roared his orgasm as his body shook and trembled from the intense pleasure.

Yet that didn't stop Sybil. With her hands pressed firmly on his chest for leverage, she began to move in earnest, bouncing and riding him, seeking her own pleasure which he could tell was mounting deeply within her. Tom brought his hand up, searching for the sweet bud at the apex of her core, smiling as he heard her gasp his name when his thumb began to stroke it. "Tom…TOM!" she cried, and the tremors of her orgasm were beginning to take hold.

He sat up then, nowhere moving as fast as she could, but the motion did surprise her, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, needing to hold her, feel her against his chest, wanting to kiss her as she came…

Their mouths fused together as their bodies continued to move, only ripping apart to allow them both to gasp and scream. He held her tightly as she trembled in his arms, whimpering his name over and over as the pleasure claimed her. Tom sighed and pressed his lips against her shoulder while resting his head there…Sybil doing the same against his. Making love to her was nothing like the clumsy mating romps of his past, none of which he had taken seriously or seen as anything more than what they were at the time. Like their animal counterparts, werewolves mated for life.

…Could one such as he mate with a vampire? Had it ever been done?

_I can't believe you're even thinking about such things!_ But he was. He hadn't told her—neither of them had spoken the words—but their actions seemed to speak otherwise. He was in love with her…which made his job even more difficult.

No, not difficult; impossible.

"Ahh!" he hissed at the sharp sting at his neck.

Sybil's head, which had been buried there, suddenly whipped back, and her hand was covering her mouth, her eyes wide with horror and revulsion. "Oh Tom!" she gasped, her voice muffled behind her hand. "I'm so sorry! I…I didn't mean…" she hung her head then, trying to avoid his eyes as she attempted to disengage herself from his embrace, but he only tightened his arm around her, while his other hand was pressed against his neck, his fingers moving back to look down at what he suspected.

Blood. She had nipped him.

He looked back at her, and he saw tears pool in her eyes. She looked so ashamed, and her hands were still clamped over her mouth.

His heart swelled, and with a gentle hand, he coaxed her to lower her hands away from her lips…seeing the trickle of blood at the right corner of her mouth, as well as her fangs which were now extended.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured again, but Tom gently pressed his finger to her lips, before tenderly moving his thumb to the corner of her mouth…and wiping that small trickle up…before bringing his thumb to her lips.

If his brother could see him now, he would be screaming at him for this madness. But then his brother and all of the Pack elders would have been screaming at him for even being in the same bed with one of her kind, let alone offering her his own blood!

Sybil glanced at his thumb and then back at him, her eyes curious but also…aroused. The red glow was kindling once more, but it didn't frighten him, not when he saw the tenderness and…dare he hope, _love_, reflected there.

He held his breath as she drew his thumb between her lips…and licked the blood away.

He groaned and suddenly, he was seized by the strangest desire, one he never thought he would ever feel, but…he wanted to do this, he _needed_ to do this.

He tilted his head to the side…offering his neck to her.

Sybil's eyes widened and she released his thumb. "No, Tom, you mustn't—"

"I trust you," he told her. And he did; that was why he needed to do this.

"You shouldn't," she protested, shaking her head. "I…the hunger, it's…it's difficult to control—"

His large hands held her face and he looked deeply into her eyes. "I…trust…you," he repeated slowly.

Her eyes went to his neck, and then back to him. He could see that she was tempted, and that she was fighting the temptation. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips, before sucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she internally debated his offer.

_Say it; she needs to hear it and you need to tell her._ "I love you…"

Her eyes went back to his, wide at the confession, though he hoped she was already aware about how deeply he cared for her.

She gazed at him a moment longer…and even though she didn't reply, he could see the love, the love he was so certain of seeing before, reflect back at him, and despite the slight nervousness he was feeling at this unorthodox offer, he did smile, and once again tilted his head to the side…

She moved quickly, so quickly he didn't even have time to gasp.

Her lips sealed against his neck, her tongue first running across the vein, dancing over his skin…and then he felt the sting again, like being burned as she sank her fangs into his neck, only the pain was brief…and his gasp soon became a moan of…what, exactly? Pleasure? No, but…but it wasn't unpleasant!

"Mmmmmm…" he heard her moan against his neck as he felt her suck the blood from his body. He tightened his arms around her, and he felt her nails dig into the broad flesh of his back, her legs wrapping around him once again, and then he gasped as he felt her…move.

He was still buried inside her, their bodies were still joined, and she began to move and thrust against him, squirming in his lap, needing more, seeking more as she continued to drink his blood.

His head was spinning, he felt dizzy, but he bared down and did his best to respond, lifting his hips and thrusting back, gasping at the intensity of it all. "Sybil…" he groaned, his hands sliding down her back to cup her arse, using his strength to push her even harder against him as he thrusted. She made a sound against his neck, what he thought might have been a moan of pleasure, but she did not lift her head, if anything, she growled and began to feed from him with abandon!

He bit his lip, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as he continued to thrust, hard and deep and fast, both of them needing quick release, and soon. He was panting, he felt the sweat sliding down his chest, and he imagined the marks he was leaving on her skin as his fingers pressed firmly into her arse, though he knew any bruises he left would be nothing compared to the scar she'd be leaving him.

"Fuck, Sybil—_SYBIL!"_ he gasped as with just a few more strokes, his orgasm shook him, and he could feel it taking her too, feel the walls of her core tighten around him, before her own body began to tremble…and still, her mouth remained against his neck.

It wouldn't be the warrior's death his kind were brought up to revere, yet if he did die now, he couldn't imagine being happier.

He shuddered as he felt her fangs release him…and then trembled at the feel of her tongue, running along the puncture wounds, licking him clean, before finally…lifting her head away.

Her lips were coated with blood—_his blood_, and there was blood dripping down the corners of her mouth on both sides. Such a sight should be frightening, and yet…he wasn't.

_I love her…_

She lowered her eyes, the lashes demurely brushing her cheeks once more as she lifted the back of her hand to wipe away the excess. "I got a bit carried away," she confessed, though she didn't sound ashamed, just…bashful.

He couldn't help but smile, despite how tired he felt from being drained (in every sense). "I told you I trusted you," he murmured, lifting a hand to caress her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and then proceeded to coax him to lie back down on the bed, which he all too gladly did, before she snuggled into his embrace, her head finding that place where she always liked to rest, just over his heart.

"Thank you," she whispered in the dark.

Tom's eyes felt so heavy; he knew he would be falling asleep very soon, his body needing the rest to regain his strength. But he was still conscious enough to answer her, so he responded, "you're welcome?" though he wasn't exactly sure to what, exactly, she was thanking him for. For showing her that trust? For letting her drink his blood?

"For telling me that you love me…despite what I am," she explained, as if reading his thoughts.

His arms tightened around her. "What _we_ are…" he answered. "…It doesn't matter." At least it shouldn't. According to the laws of both their kinds, they were blood enemies. But it had been quite some time when Tom stopped thinking of Lady Sybil Crawley as his enemy…and after tonight, began thinking of her as his mate.

"…I love you, too."

His eyes fluttered open at the sweet words. He turned his head slightly and looked at her; she was smiling up at him, and again, even though she couldn't, he could easily imagine her cheeks pinking with blush.

He lowered his head then and kissed her, softly, reverently, before leaning away and falling back against his pillow. Sybil sat up just a little so she could run her cool fingers across his fevered brow. "Sleep," she whispered. "When morning comes, you'll have your strength back."

He thought as much. But at the same time, he dreaded the morning light because he knew that when he awoke, she wouldn't be there. She would have retreated from his cottage, back to Downton, to the crypt below the Servant's Hall where the Crawleys rested during daylight hours and that was guarded by their faithful staff. Youth and beauty might forever be hers, but at the cost of never seeing the sun again? No, he would always see _that_ as an unfortunate curse.

The last thought that came to his mind before sleep finally claimed him was the debate of whether or not to tell Sybil the entire truth about himself, not just the fact that he was a werewolf, which she knew and none of the others did, but…why he was there. He couldn't do it now; he had been "emotionally compromised". But even so…would she still murmur such sweet, loving words to him, if she knew everything about him? But what if he didn't tell her…and she found out?

Despite this internal debate he was having with himself, sleep did come. And he dreamt about Sybil, and how beautiful and rosy she looked, dancing and laughing in the sun.


	2. Part Two: Full Moon

_Here's part 2, now from Sybil's POV. Takes place several days/a week later. Thanks for reading, and Happy Halloween!_

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><p>(part two)<p>

_**"Full Moon"**_

"_We are superior to every living thing; we are the cream that rises to the top; and they are nothing but cattle for us to consume."_

That was the lesson that she and her sisters were taught, that all vampires were taught from an early age, even amongst their own kind. Old families…ancient families like hers…were seen as superior to all other things. And nothing was lower than a werewolf, not even a human.

She never understood why werewolves were so despised; she had asked the question countless times to her father and grandmother and eldest sister, but none of them could supply her with a sufficient answer. Eventually, tired of her questioning, she was simply told _"that's just the way things are!"_ and Sybil knew then that they didn't have an answer, they were just as clueless…but they were also too stubborn to change their way of thinking.

Well, she refused to let someone think for her. She would make her own decisions, as well as create her own rules, so help her, even if those rules conflicted with those that her father insisted she and her sisters follow.

For example, she shouldn't be here in the chauffeur's cottage, waiting for her lover to return from his hunt. It was especially dangerous for her to be here on the night of the full moon, when the beast within him was hardest to control, yet just as he had shown her trust when he offered his neck for her to bite, so too did she trust him not to hurt her, even in his most primal, primitive form. Besides, she was the only other one here who knew his secret; not even Gwen was aware, though she did not believe he was human, despite what he had told Carson when he was hired to serve her family.

It was an accident, learning his secret. She happened to be in the gardens, reading under the light of the moon when she heard the growling. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end at the sound, but despite the fear that seized her heart, she ventured forth, following the growls that led her to the small pond on the other side of the gardens…and that was where she saw him, hunched down, his head lowered to the pool, drinking the water as if his life depended on it…and then she watched with wide eyes full of shock as he gave a fierce grunt…before his body transformed before her very eyes, back to his human form.

That was also the first time she had seen him naked…and my, what a beautiful physique he had. She had tried to ignore the attraction she felt for him well before that night, but now…exposed as he was…she couldn't help but drink in his beauty, the broad, muscular strength of his arms, shoulders, chest, and back…how powerful he looked, how strong, how handsome…

Her eyes drifted down, taking in the rest of him, and her mouth fell open as he leaned back on his haunches, offering her a glimpse of his lower half…

Well…he didn't do the statues in the garden justice. If anything, he put them to shame.

He turned then to look at her, and she gasped, darting away as quickly as possible, knowing she was faster, but still, she didn't stop until she was back at the house. It occurred to her then that he had seen her eyes; no doubt they had been glowing with desire.

She avoided him the next two nights, but on the third, she knew she had to confront him.

"You're secret is safe," she told him. "No one will hear…not from me."

They had been…friendly, before. At the very least, polite and civil to each other. But after that moment, a friendship, a real friendship, started to grow. And she would often go to him, to seek escape from her family and their oppressive, backwards rules. And he would listen to her complaints, as well as encourage her to formulate and strengthen her arguments, providing her with information about his kind, expanding her limited knowledge about werewolves, a knowledge that was clouded with prejudice because that was all she had been taught.

She also sought to learn everything she could, exploring her father's library, ignoring the texts that were nothing more than hateful propaganda. She learned that werewolves were strong, even stronger than vampires, and their strength grew with the phases of the moon. They didn't require the moon to be full to change form, however when it was full, it was near impossible not to change…and very, very hard to keep control of that beast, that…like her kind…had a hunger that needed to be quenched.

He had warned her not to come to him on these nights, that he wasn't sure he would be able to control himself and didn't want to hurt her. But here she was, breaking another rule.

Their "affair" had begun nearly a month ago. This would be the first full moon since their friendship became something more. The night that happened he had come upon her in the gardens, sitting and feeling melancholy for her sister, who was making a terrible mistake of denying the love she felt for another because that man was a "mere mortal", and not like them. Her sister was good at hiding her emotions, not letting anyone see her true feelings beneath her icy veneer, but Sybil knew better. And she knew how sad her sister was.

He found her…heard her weeping, and feared something had happened to her, but she explained that it wasn't her heart that was breaking, though she felt an extension of that pain because she loved her sister. She also confessed then to him that she didn't want to be like that, she didn't want to let something or someone stop her from being happy, especially in matters of the heart. She looked at him…and held his gaze for several heartbeats…before they both moved together, filling the gap between them, and that was their first kiss…

…Which led to more…and more…and then…

Sybil's head jerked up at the sound of heavy breathing. _Tom… _

She moved to the door of the cottage and opened it, her eyes already glowing red, even before she had a chance to gaze at his naked form.

He paused and stared at her, and it was then that Sybil realized now…animal…his eyes looked. Feral, and perhaps to some, frightening.

But not to her.

"Come inside, let me wash you," she encouraged, holding her hand out to him. She had filled a basin with warm water, and a cloth and towel close by to help clean the dirt and blood from his body, but he didn't move, nor did he take her offered hand. Instead he continued to stare at her, his eyes wary and his body tense.

"You shouldn't be here," he muttered, his voice dangerously low.

"Come inside, Tom—"

"I could _kill_ you," he growled.

"So could I," she all but hissed back, her fangs bearing slightly at the threat. Not the best answer, because his eyes flashed blue fire, and his upper lip curled in a savage snarl. _Be calm, keep calm…_

"Tom…" she murmured her name and drew her fangs back. He remained hunched and she had noticed that his hair had bristled, and she could see definite signs of a "scruff" on his face and arms. "Tom…" she repeated, her voice even softer than before. The truth was, they were both lethal, and if pushed too far, their monstrous instincts might try to take over, and they would be quite literally ripping each other's throats out. But again, Sybil refused to be ruled by anything other than her own mind and heart, and so she pushed the beast within herself back down, and once more held her hand out to him. "It's alright…come inside…"

The tension in his muscles had lessened slightly…and his eyes were slowly beginning to return to normal. She could see the struggle in his features, see that he was trying to calm the beast in himself as well, but his struggle was so much fiercer, so despite the ache to cross the distance between them and enfold him in her arms, she waited…her hand extended patiently…and a breath of relief escaping her lips when he finally took it at last.

He all but sagged towards her then, and Sybil wasted no time, drawing him close and pulling him into the cottage, shutting the door behind them and hoping no one had seen them. They shouldn't have; the chauffeur's cottage was a good distance from the house, and her family hardly came this way when they were stalking prey.

She led him to a chair and coaxed him to sit down. She took a blanket and drew it around his trembling form, though she knew it wasn't caused by the chill in the night air. His skin was radiating such heat, that she knew if she touched him, it would feel like she was touching fire. She reached for the basin and put the cloth in the bowl, wringing the excess water, before gently…bringing it to his body.

He jumped a little at the feel of the water (was it her imagination, or did it…sizzle…when it touched his skin?) But soon, thankfully, he relaxed, and she quietly took the time needed to wash him clean. She didn't ask him about his hunt; she knew he didn't hunt humans (werewolves saw such things as barbaric, and linked too closely to the behavior of vampires), but based on the blood and dirt that covered his arms, chest, and face, she could only imagine that whatever his prey had been, it was large.

The water dripped down his chest, down his stomach, and she couldn't help but glance as she followed one drop as it descended below his waist.

He was hard already. Or…was he always like that? He had told her once that he couldn't seem to stop whenever he was around her, that he seemed forever trapped in a constant state of arousal. Sybil had to admit, she felt the same way. It was a wonder her eyes were constantly red and glowing.

She gasped as she felt his large hand wrap around her wrist. Normally she was the one who moved fast and quick, making very little noise, but he had taken her by surprise, and her eyes grew even wider as he leaned closer…his eyes feral again.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped by the sudden pressure of his mouth covering hers, robbing her of speech and breath and thought.

Another gasp escaped her lips as she suddenly felt herself being seized in his powerful arms (gracious, were werewolves always this quick on the night of the full moon?) and the cool wood of his table met her back as he laid her upon it, rather roughly. She didn't mind, though; as she had assured him not so long ago, she rather liked it when he allowed his "beast" out to play.

"OH!" Sybil gasped, as he took hold of her nightdress in both hands and tore it in two, leaving her bare, exposed, and every bit as naked as him. Her head fell back as she felt his lips drag down her body, over her throat and down her chest, leaving a molten trail between her breasts, before attacking the mounds with a snarl, his mouth viciously sucking her nipple while his hand pawed at the other, before switching back and forth, creating a pleasured frenzy between the both of them.

"Tom…Tom…" she panted, his lips eventually moving down her body, and her eyes widened as she suddenly felt herself being lifted off the table, his hands grasping her hips, practically throwing her legs over his shoulders, before with diving between her thighs with a hungry growl. "TOM!" she all but screamed.

The first time he had tasted her, nothing could have prepared her for the pleasure that she felt. But this was different. Then, he had been gentle, careful, and reverent. Now, he seemed to be possessed, and blinded by raw lust, and Sybil screamed as she felt his lips wrap around the swollen bud, attacking it with his tongue before sucking it with the same fervor as he had done with her nipples.

Two fingers started to thrust in her core, and Sybil trembled, shaking as pleasure took hold. But he didn't stop; even as her orgasm claimed her, he continued his lustful assault, spreading her legs even wider, thrusting his tongue in and out of her core, while his fingers rose to worry her clitoris with abandon.

"TOM! TOM! TOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

On the heels of one orgasm came another, even more intense than the last. She could see stars bursting overhead, and she had a feeling he would simply continue if she didn't try something. He needs release too.

"Tom…please…" she whimpered, using the strength she had and tugging at his arms, even at his hair. He lifted his head and looked up at her, his eyes glazed with passion, more animal than man, but still every bit the one that she loved.

And that was when the idea struck her.

"Tom…" she tugged on him again, and he rose, kissing up her body until his face was finally level with hers. She held it between her hands, stroking his cheeks as she looked deeply into his eyes. "Make love to me as you would, if I were a werewolf."

He stared down at her, and she saw that his brow was furrowed with confusion, as if he were trying to make sense of what she had said. But she knew this was something they hadn't done, he had told her as much after their fourth or fifth time together; werewolves, when they coupled together, often only mated in one form. It was something her kind would abhor, because they would see it as primitive and degrading, rutting like beasts, when despite their posh façade, they were every bit as monstrous as the creatures they claimed to despise.

"Please…" she begged, wanting this so badly now. "Please, Tom; I want you to."

There was another pause…and then suddenly Sybil gasped as she felt him grasp her by the arms, before flipping her over onto the table, her stomach and breasts pressing down to the cool wood, and suddenly his heated chest was against her back, and she could hear him growling in her ear.

"I'm going to _fuck_ you, Sybil," he snarled, and her eyes fluttered in lust and desire at his promise. It was base, yes, but she loved it, and she wanted it. She wanted him to take her and claim her and make her his mate.

"Do it," she urged, begging him and wriggling her rump against his groin. "Take me, fuck me! TOM!"

She gasped and he groaned as he parted her thighs and slid himself inside her body, filling her core with his cock…and then without warning, began to thrust, hard and fast, his arms bracing the table as he moved.

Oh God, it was good—he felt so good! She moaned and whimpered and kept begging him for more. "Don't stop!" she gasped, trying to respond to his thrusts, but it was difficult from this position; she was truly at his mercy.

He snarled and she gasped anew, her eyes flying open as she felt his mouth at the nape of her neck, biting down as if…as if he were a wolf. His fangs were dull compared to hers, but that didn't mean they weren't sharp, and she knew they would leave a mark, but she didn't care. Just as he wore a scar where she had drank his blood, so too would she happily wear his.

"TOM!" she cried as she felt his fingers snake between her legs from the front, finding her clit and rubbing fast little circles over and over, building her pleasure as his cock moved like a piston with ferocious speed, in and out, in and out, harder, faster, deeper—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" she screamed, though that was nothing compared to the roar which quickly turned into a howl, as he threw his own head back in pleasure, their orgasms taking them both together.

He gasped, and collapsed his body completely against hers. She could feel their sweat mingling from his chest and her back. Sybil panted too, and neither of them moved for a long, long time. Her eyes even drifted closed, as if she might fall asleep (something which was practically unheard of for vampires during night hours), but that was how good his lovemaking had been. She felt drained…

Her eyes fluttered open as she felt his lips tenderly kiss the nape of her neck, as if he were cleaning the scar she knew he had left. She whimpered as she felt him move away from her, their bodies parting, but only for a moment. She was lifted away from the table, and Tom swept her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as if she were more precious than spun gold.

"Beauty saved the beast," he murmured in her ear as he carried her to the bed, his arms never loosening, even after they had climbed inside.

"We're both beasts," she murmured, a bit of a teasing note in her voice. "And…you're my beauty; my handsome, rugged beauty."

He chuckled and when she lifted her eyes to look at him, the animal was gone, and he was her Tom again. Yet that part of him was her Tom, as well, just as the pale night creature that she was, was his Sybil.

They were each other's.

_Each other's_. Her arms tightened around him and she burrowed her face against his chest. "I love you," she whispered into his skin. She didn't care what her father or other vampires, or even the werewolves thought. She would not give him up.

He kissed her brow, and murmured back, "I love you too," though there seemed to be a hint of sadness in his voice. She wanted to ask him why he sounded that way, if something were troubling him…but she just felt so tired.

"You've drained me," she teased, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. "I can't remember the last time I slept during night hours."

He smiled at her, and let his fingers brush her cheek. "Sleep, love," he whispered, kissing her brow. "I'll wake you before dawn."

"Mmmmm…" she purred. "Wake me _well before_ dawn…" She smiled at the knowing grin on his face and settled her head once again on his chest, listening to his heart as it beat against her ear.

_I will not give him up._ No matter what, he was hers and she was his. The vampire and the werewolf; blood enemies, destined to break the rules.


End file.
